Living wish
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *GerIta* A wish upon a star, if done by three people, might have enough power to turn the tables around in ways one couldn't expect… Austria, Prussia and Hungary wish for Italy's happiness, and…
1. A day for mourning

**SOY:** hello. This is one of those Italy–centric projects I said I wanted to write. It has taken me months to complete it, because at one point I got stuck on a scene and couldn't work myself around it… anyway, now it's finished, and I hope you enjoy!

There is a Russia/Italy fic in the making from me, so please do wait for that one, too!

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**Rating**: R

**Warnings:** angst, a few suggestive scenes.

**Pairings:** Germany/Italy, HRE/Chibitalia, HRE/Italy, mentioned Hungary/Prussia/Austria

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

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**Living Wish**

**Chapter 01: A day for mourning**

Germany opened his eyes tiredly, resurfacing from sleep and feeling as if something was deeply wrong; the light hitting him in the eyes made him wince and he closed them again, breathing deeply.

As his consciousness slowly kicked in and his brain started working again –his body would soon follow, but for now, it was just his mind whirring– Germany remained motionless in his bed for a moment more, eyes close.

There it was again, the feeling that something wasn't as it should be –as if he was missing one big piece of the puzzle…

Maybe the reason why a part of him missed warmth that was not…

Italy.

Opening his eyes again, Germany looked to the side, where he'd grown accustomed to seeing the lither frame of the Italian still deeply asleep, expecting to see the mop of brown hair and feel the even breathing against his skin, and found nothing.

His bed was empty, and Germany frowned, trying to wrap his mind around it.

Ever since the start of the war –back in 1940– Italy had taken upon himself to sneak in Germany's house every night, despite the blond Nation closing all the windows and doors, and then get into the German's bed to sleep with him; after many unsuccessful attempts at making him stop, from teaching his dogs to chase him away to barricade his bedroom door, Germany had allowed it to happen, giving up.

Italy would come night after night, and the occasions when he would not be there were quite rare –even during all the years after the end of WWII, when the relationships between the nations and their bosses had been strained, Italy had still shown up, uncaring of the world, to spend some time with him.

In a way, Germany also expected his presence, and had long since stopped being put off by it –instead, one could say he welcomed…

Shaking his head, Germany sat up on the bed, stretching and popping his shoulders, then stood up.

So what if Italy wasn't there? It was not the end of the world –maybe his brother had visited his house in Venice, and he'd decided not to come?

'_But usually he warns me about that'_ part of his brain interjected, shifting from the remote depths of his conscious to come to the surface, nagging.

Which was true, but still it didn't mean anything.

Ignoring how cold (_and_ _utterly silent_) the room was, Germany stood up and made his way to the bathroom to cleanse up.

Minutes later, dressed up and ready for another day of work, Germany sat down at the table to eat his usual coffee with wurst, once again feeling the lack of the warm presence of Italy; usually, he'd be humming softly whilst preparing himself cappuccino and jam–covered bread slices, smiling as the German busied himself with his newspaper, but today…

It was always far too empty when Italy was away –Germany was bothered by it, since he hadn't meant to grow accustomed to all the small noises his… friend? made.

Shaking his head again, and shoving away the small blush on his cheeks, Germany stood up and walked towards his office, where a huge pile of documents awaited him. He definitely didn't want to think about Italy now, and he could easily grasp at a good chance when it happened –with a silent house, he could easily get his work done faster, and then…

Well, and then do more work.

It wasn't like he'd have anything else to do, if Italy wasn't around to mess with his house and his things, forcing him to take breaks and play or rest or clean or…

Holding a pen in his hand, he took the first paper in his hands and looked down at it. Something about rebuilding some old structure or something… he looked up, feeling at loss and unable to define why.

He didn't really miss Italy, because by this point, he would be hanging on his neck, demanding attention and hugs. Another flush made its way to Germany's cheeks and he pushed it down with sheer conviction.

The silence was getting to him. He could even hear the old clock in the corridor ticking seconds away, and the twitch on his brow was getting harder to ignore, as well.

Turning around and closing the door, Germany tried to focus again on his work.

After a hour and thirty–three minutes (and twenty seconds, but he _wasn't_ counting them) and still no document signed, with eyes that had to re–read every single sentence to make any sense of it, Germany gave up and went to the telephone.

Maybe Italy was ill. If he was, he could prepare some soup for him –because the Italian couldn't take care of himself at all, Germany had to add, frowning and already thinking about how to properly chastise him later– and with his worries (it was a deeply ingrained mechanism that dated back from WWII, it wasn't that Germany really worried about Italy. Merely worried for the troubles he could be the cause of) soothed, he was sure he could finally work in peace.

Ten long seconds later, spent with the receiver pressed against his ear, in a mix of apprehension and embarrassment, someone picked up on the other end of the phone.

Germany felt his cheeks flush again without reason.

"_Pronto_?"

"Italy? I'm–"

"Potato bastard!" A low hiss, filled with malice, and Germany felt like hitting his head on the wall. Oh, sure, it was just his luck that the older brother was the one answering the phone and not Italy…

But at least now he knew that nothing was wrong, and that it was just Romano coming up to see his brother…

"Lovino, I–" he tried, in a half–attempt to calm the Italian down, even though he knew it wouldn't work at all.

"Don't call my brother, _fottuto bastardo_!" Romano ranted, still in a low, hissy tone.

Which was strange, Germany was used to the yells that could burst his ears, not to this low voice. Which was still filled with hatred, but it was Romano. That was a given.

"I just wanted to know if Feliciano–"

"Stay away from him today, I warn you!" Romano was growling now, and on the background, Germany could hear the noise of pots and pans being slammed down on the stove. "He has no time to come and see you so keep the fuck away from him, o–"

"Brother? Who's on the phone?"

Germany frowned. It _was_ Italy's voice, and yet it wasn't. Small and almost subdued, Italy didn't seem happy. Against his better judgement, Germany felt his worries suddenly increase.

"A stupid telemarketer" Romano replied in Italian, his voice completely losing all his animosity. Germany frowned. "Go back to bed, I'll have the breakfast ready in a couple of minutes".

"Ok… _grazie, fratello_".

There was a long silence, then Germany could picture Romano's face twisting into that of a very pissed off Italian once again. "Don't come over. Stay home, you bastard! He…" a sharp intake of breath, then a scuffle, then Italy's voice "Ve, Ludwig… why did you call?"

On the background, South Italy was throwing a fit, and it was easier to hear him than his younger brother. Germany fidgeted, unsure now that he could talk to Italy.

"Feliciano… is… is everything ok? You don't' sound… too well".

"No, Ludwig, don't worry!" a pathetic attempt at sounding cheerful, that failed. Both Germany and Italy knew, of course. "I'm just… not feeling well today, ve? I'll rest at home and come see you tomorrow, ok? Brother will take care of me~"

"I will! Stay away from Feliciano, you potato bastard!"

"I… of course, Feliciano. Please take care of yourself, ok? I'll… call again this evening" with that, Germany ended the call, still feeling off and unsure.

He wanted to go to Italy, of course –who wouldn't, with that kind of call? Italy had sounded so… hurt– but he reasoned that he could not just go run to the Italian every time it felt like something was wrong. They were not in war anymore. Italy could take care of himself, for sure. And there was his brother… they wouldn't cause many problems if they remained home all day, right?

With that set in mind, Germany turned around to get back to his documents, and stopped when he noticed his own brother staring at him from the doorframe.

He was dressed soberly, with dark blue clothes and even his face wasn't as cheerful as it could have been, either. The moment Germany turned to him, however, a smirk reappeared on his lips.

"Yo, West!" lifting one hand in a salute, Prussia moved into the room and ruffled his hair, much to Germany's irritation. "The awesome me will be out all day, so you will have to do without my special presence today! Think you can do it?"

Germany stared at him with a stern expression "Where are you going, _bruder_?"

"Ah, to bother Austria, of course!" even the laugh felt strained, but Germany had no time to care about that, his mind still concentrating on Italy's voice on the phone. "In the meanwhile, will you take care of this guy here? He won't be much of a bother, I promise!"

Before he could protest, Germany had a small, yellow and chirping bird thrust into his hands, and as he fumbled around with it, flushing and looking up, Prussia had already vanished from the room, the front door slamming shut.

"… what do I have to do with him?" Germany stared down at the chirping bird, only to realise he was talking to a _bird_, of all things, and flushed crimson again.

The little thing let out a small sound and flapped its wings, taking refuge in the blond man's hair.

"Don't move from there" he admonished the bird, feeling once again silly, and hoping that Prussia had at least trained him not to…

Well, anyway.

"Back to work" he sighed.

…–…–…–…

"Oi, stupid Austrian!"

Austria felt his eyebrow twitch as he turned around, a smooth motion that had his long coat flutter in the cold air, one hand gently grabbing Hungary's wrist, preventing her from extracting her frying pan of d00m and unleashing her anger on Prussia.

"Stupid Gilbert, good morning" he replied courteously, nodding at the other man and shifting the huge bunch of flowers he was holding from one arm to the other.

Prussia's smirk was absent from his face, replaced with a much sober look, and Austria felt Hungary's muscles relax, so he let her wrist go.

"Where's Feli?" she asked, looking around. "I thought he'd be at your house…"

The albino shrugged, walking at her side and fidgeting, not used to the less comfortable clothes he was wearing. "I overheard Germany call his house, he's with his brother… he'll probably be already waiting for us when we get there…"

"I see" Austria looked to the side, wondering if not warning the German Nation had been a good idea, but knowing that he would only have complicated matters more. They had been unable to approach the subject with him for the last decades, so they couldn't just start now, could they? Besides, despite feeling guilty, the three of them had long since felt the need to keep that moment to them, as a reminder of the old days.

Every year, they had managed never to be questioned, and Germany had never noticed, even though they never did lie to him, either.

The trio reached a nearby café, stopping enough to get a good coffee; they barely spoke, a strangely comfortable silence enveloping them for a while as they sat down, only broken by Hungary's voice making the order for them all.

Prussia drank his coffee down in one long gulp, attacking the slice of _Sacher torte_ with a ravenous hunger, under the vaguely disgusted look of Austria and the more exasperated one of Hungary.

The Prussian paid for all their orders, receiving a slight nod in thanks from the other two, then they left the café and moved outside of the city; the road they had chosen was the same as last year, and of the years before that, a small, unrefined path through the forest that slithered upwards to the mountain, to a secluded, small cemetery, the tombs in there so old that the names written on the graves had long since been forgotten by human minds.

As they proceeded upwards, Hungary trudged behind, panting slightly as she tried to walk with her huge skirt on.

"I knew I should have put on pants" she grunted, cheeks flushed in anger and fatigue. "Damn it…"

Prussia chuckled, but offered her some laces he'd brought with him. Smirking a bit at Austria, who had turned his head away in shame, cheeks aflame, he watched as Hungary tied her skirt's hems up a bit, make–shift pants loose but still more usable to walk up the road.

"Thank you" she muttered, stomping ahead and distancing both Nations.

Austria and Prussia glanced at each other, smirking, then hurried to catch up with her.

The walk wasn't that long –not more than a hour, with their fast pace– and as soon as they left the path behind, moving towards the top of the hill, the small graveyard appeared in front of them. It didn't look depressing, the sun shining brightly above it, the crumbled stones and walls giving it a decadent look, abandoned by everyone, its presence well hidden for centuries.

Prussia's eyes lit up when he noticed a lone figure standing close to one of the tombs, crouched down next to it.

"Feli!" he called out, making the figure turn around, startled.

The three moved towards the grave, passing through the small, deserted graveyard; Austria slowed down his pace, stopping by each of the uncared stones to drop a single flower on top of them, as he'd done for the past centuries, every year.

Maybe humans didn't remember who they were, maybe the names had been lost to all, but the Nation still knew all of them, soldiers that had fought valiantly so many years before.

"Gilbert, Elizaveta, Roderich" Italy stood up, rubbing at his red eyes and waiting for them to get close, before enveloping each of them in a tight hug, despite Austria's grunt of annoyance.

"Have you been there for long, Feli?" Hungary kissed him on the forehead, before kneeling next to the small, anonymous tomb that was now covered with fresh flowers. A sad smile graced her lips at the sight, especially since the wooden cross had been made anew again, a name carved on its surface.

"No, no" Italy shook his head, letting Austria's hand go. "Brother gave me a lift with his vespa, I just got here myself".

He pointed to the small field outside of the graveyard, where a picnic had already been prepared for them all. Austria nodded, also kneeling in front of the grave, uncaring for his pants now dirty with soil.

Falling silent, the four turned to look at the grave.

There was no body inside, of course –they all knew it– but the spirit hovering upon it was of enough importance to them all, and a place where to come together to remember was almost needed.

The tombs around were of soldiers who died for their ideals, and that ideal was the tomb the four of them had been visiting almost every year since 1806 –Holy Roman Empire's grave.

Hungary remained motionless, feeling silly for wanting to do something, but Italy had done everything that could be done already, cleaning the spot from grass and placing a new cross, not to mention carving his name on it again.

"Brother Francis won't be coming this year" Italy stated suddenly, humming. "He said he'll drop by tomorrow, though".

Prussia snorted but said nothing; France was still feeling guilty over being the one who had attacked HRE last, and whenever that time was mentioned, he'd try to get out of the subject, eyes darkening and flickering to Italy. No words could make him stop, and Prussia, Spain and Italy himself had long since stopped trying… he'd come by on his own, when he felt he had paid enough compensation.

Rapping on Italy's head to attract his attention, Prussia pointed towards the picnic spread on the grass, asking for permission; at the light nod, he stood up, knowing that they had the whole day to pay personal respects to the tomb, and made his way to the food.

Austria also stood up, wandering away from the tomb to watch the panorama, still as wild and calm as ever, whilst Hungary sat at Italy's side, eyes following the two Nations for a moment.

It felt comfortable to stay put, silent, a cool breeze gracing her face, and Hungary let out a long sigh, her shoulders relaxing.

"Are you ever tired of coming here, Elizaveta?"

The soft question startled the woman, who turned around to look at Italy, who had yet to look away from the tomb, eyes almost caressing the name on the cross.

She was about to hastily reply that no, she wasn't –but she hesitated, and thought about it. The silence hung in the air for a couple of minutes again, as Hungary thought seriously whether she could ever consider not coming.

"I guess" she stated in the end, biting her lower lip in wonder. "There are years that… I just don't want to remember anymore, when I just want to stay home, keep doing the everyday things I usually do, and there are times I have to force myself to come here".

Italy let out a soft hum, but she wasn't finished yet.

"But then… when I come here, and I look at this place…" Hungary's eyes were once again staring at the remains of the church, hidden behind a group of trees "I remember why I come here. It feels good to remember. It feels good to just… sit back and think…"

With a nod, the Italian curled more upon himself, eyes still not leaving the cross.

"I never tire of coming here" he admitted, hands trembling slightly as he hugged himself tighter. "I don't know why I cannot let go. I tried. I always think I did it, then this day comes by, and I find myself dreaming of him –dreaming of the past, and feel…" one hand clenched over his chest "longing".

Hungary nodded, allowing Italy to collect his thoughts at the pace he preferred. She didn't have to say that Italy was the one with the strongest connection to the dead Nation, as they all knew it.

"It's been… centuries. So many centuries. It feels like a lifetime away, and yet I can't forget, and no matter how much I try, his memory still comes back, and haunts me until I can barely breathe, the fact that he's dead still plagues me at night" shaking his head slightly, eyes filling with tears, Italy looked at the older woman, almost as if asking for an explanation. "Why does it still hurt? I should… I should be able to… move on, shouldn't I?"

Shifting forwards, Hungary pulled the Italian into a tight hug, hiding his face in her chest and holding him there. Muffled, she could hear his sobs, could feel the shaking frame against her own, and there were no words to offer for that kind of pain at all. Just hold him close and hope it'd pass.

"Why cannot I move on, Big sister Eliza? Why?" hands clenched around her back, Italy softly sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks to wet her clothes. "How long does this last?"

'_Too long'_ she thought. _'It has lasted enough already, Feli… but it's not as simple as it was for me and Roderich… you were not just a friend for him, he wasn't just a pupil or a charge for you… he was your first love, and you were not even allowed to say goodbye…'_

But she couldn't say this aloud, and tears welled up in her eyes as well.

Holding him close, she ignored the understanding looks Austria and Prussia exchanged between them, and the way Prussia turned around, hands turned into fists, shoulders trembling as he concentrated on the bottle of beer Italy had prepared him.

Maybe it would never pass.

…–…–…–…

"Ve~ it's cold" shuddering, the Italian huddled closer between Prussia and Hungary, holding the glass of vine in his hands and flopping down on the blanket, looking up at the sky.

They had been resting and talking for the whole day, as they had done for the past years, some sort of ritual repeated for every visit –soothing, calming and acceptable; Italy's tears had dried up completely, his crying helping him calm down and collect himself again, and there was nothing left of the day anymore.

In a few moments, they would finally pack everything up and return to their houses, and the next day would start just like usual. Nothing amiss.

But for a moment more, they didn't move, eyes staring at the star–filled sky above.

"It's huge" Prussia replied, pointing at one of his favourite constellations. His finger traced its contours gently, flashes of almost forgotten memories coming back to him with a light taste of melancholy. "Look, there's the Leo".

Closing his eyes for a moment, Italy allowed the heat coming from the bodies at his right and left to lull him into a semi–unconscious state. His body ached for the strain of the last few nights spent wide awake, listening to the rhythmic breathing of Germany at his side, running from nightmares, and his eyes felt heavy, hurt by the many tears shed.

Snuggling closer to Hungary's shoulder, Italy let out a soft moan.

Hungary shuffled closer to Austria, pressing her forehead against the other Nation's shoulder, her hand reaching sideways until she was holding Italy to her chest again. The Italian nation let out a soft sound but didn't move, and Prussia also shifted more towards them, fingers intertwining with Hungary's.

Eyes unmoving from the sky above, the three nations still awake allowed their thoughts to scatter away, chasing them with indolence.

"We should head back now" Austria stated, in his usual matter–of–fact tone. "My Boss is coming over tomorrow, and I heard you avoided most of your paperwork to come there today, Elizaveta".

Throwing him a dirty look, Hungary nodded, pushing Italy away from her. His head lolled to the side, clearly too deeply asleep to notice he'd been moved, and she sighed, nodding at Prussia as he kneeled next to her.

With the help of Austria, she moved the sleeping Italian to the Prussian's back, worry clouding her eyes when she noticed the darkened bangs under his eyes, sign he needed this sleep.

"Yes, let's go" she agreed, standing up.

Her makeshift pants could surely last for a bit more.

"Are you taking him home with you, Gilbert?" Austria asked in a murmur, moving the tree branches away from the path so that Prussia could follow him without worrying about the sleeping Italian on his back.

Other than their voices and the leaves and twigs and pebbles under their feet, the silence was almost complete.

"He won't wake up tonight, but tomorrow he might be happy to wake up in West's bed," Prussia would have scratched his chin, hadn't he been holding Italy's unresponsive body on his back. As it was, he looked to the side, flushed.

Austria shook his head, but a quick glance at the sleeping Italian made his shoulders relax.

"I wish Ludwig could take that stick up his ass and just… realise it!" Hungary growled, kicking a pebble out of the way.

It rolled down the path, hitting a tree.

"It isn't that easy, Eliza," Prussia sighed, looking at her "we can't just force things upon West. Not even if the wait keeps hurting Feli, he wouldn't want West to feel forced at all. We made a decision almost two centuries ago, and it's better if we keep to it".

Hands closing into fists, Austria kept looking at the path in front of him, the perfect excuse not to intervene.

Yes, they were all aware of what Germany was –or better then, of what Germany's territories had once been– but the past was the past, and even with the remote chance that Holy Roman Empire's memories were buried somewhere deep inside his mind, they had come to the painful conclusion that Germany was _not_ HRE.

Germany was his own Nation, and Italy's second love, and they couldn't ask him to move at a faster pace than he could.

Even if Germany actually _was_ HRE, things would not be that simple. There was no way for him to recover his memories prior to his dissolution, and that meant no looking back.

Besides, even if the many coincidences piled up until one could barely ignore them –HRE's disappearance coincided with the period Prussia had met with little Ludwig, who had no memory prior to that, the physical resemblance, the similar attitude, those territories, that had been HRE's heart– maybe it was just that… a coincidence.

Convincing themselves that they were two different people, believing that, too… it was the only way.

It was true that Italy had unresolved matters with his own past, but he'd been the one to ask them not to tell Germany about it, once they had realised that the little boy Prussia had found was what remained of HRE –stripped of his powers, of his memories, of his territories…

"_I don't want this person to feel obliged to keep a promise that was made by someone else"_ Italy's eyes had been filled with tears then, hands trembling despite his courageous words. _"He cannot remember, it would only hurt him to know there is a past he can't have access to…"_

Staring at the small kid in Prussia's arms, fast asleep, Italy's hand had extended to his cheek, barely brushing it before flinching away as if scalded. As if unable to bring himself to show love to this lost Nation.

"_If fate wants to, we'll meet again in the future"_ he'd murmured before turning around. _"He has his life to live through, and I need to fight my own battles. Holy Roman… Holy Roman Empire is the past now, and this boy is not him"._

Things had worked out since then, and Austria had not been surprised when Germany, grown up and venturing through his very first war, had met up with useless Italy again.

_If Fate wants to…_

Still, it looked like things would take more time to be resolved still.

Reaching Germany's house first, Prussia waved at Austria and Hungary after they opened the door for him; one of the dogs wagged its tail at them, returning to its position next to the door, and Prussia smirked down at it.

"I'll call you tomorrow" he mouthed towards Austria, who rolled his eyes but nodded.

Watching the two walk away, Prussia let his smirk fade away and entered the house, shutting the door close behind his back and making his way towards Germany's bedroom.

It wasn't too late, yet his brother was already fast asleep, with the yellow bird perched on the pillow next to the German's head; he seemed almost restless, but thankfully he didn't wake up when Prussia entered the room and gently lowered Italy's body down on the mattress, taking away his shoes and covering him with the blanket.

Italy curled up on himself with a small sound of distress but didn't' wake up, and under the surprised gaze of Prussia, Germany rolled over, answering to some sort of instinct, and shuffled closer to Italy, the wrinkles on his forehead relaxing at once.

With a deep sigh, Germany seemed to fall into a deeper sleep. Italy huddled closer to the bigger frame of the German, breath evening out as well.

Prussia scratched his chin, feeling suddenly one too much in the room.

Gathering the sleeping bird in his hands, he turned around and left.

Not willing to go to sleep yet, the Prussian made his way to the sitting room and then back out, to the veranda, sitting on the porch to look up at the stars again.

He felt a bit sentimental still, which wasn't as awesome as it should be, but it was ok on this day, and he didn't comment on it –besides, he was alone and no one would know either.

The cool air brushing against his face, his small bird safely protected from the wind in his hands, Prussia relaxed his muscles and let his thoughts wander, eyes trailing around to look at the garden.

It was a beautiful night, and he felt almost at peace, despite the lingering threads of sadness.

'_I just wish that…'_ interrupting his thoughts, Prussia glanced upwards, and was surprised to see a shooting star suddenly arch its way through the darkened sky. Grinning sadly, Prussia completed his thought, for how stupid it could sound. _'I just wish Italy could meet him again, and finally find closure'_.

At Hungary's house, she had just changed into her night gown, noting to herself to call Poland in the morning, and was walking towards the kitchen to grab something to drink when she glanced outside of the window, and saw a shooting star.

Pressing her hands against the glass panel, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

She was happy. She had everything she could wish, but in such a day, there was only one thing she could wish, and she did wish that, with all her heart, mind still ringing with Italy's sobs of pain.

'_I wish Feli could be happy'_.

Holding a bottle of water close to her chest, Hungary made her way back to the bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

On his own, Austria had no intentions of going to sleep.

His feet brought him quickly through his house, to the door of his main hall, not even opening the lights; he knew the room like the back of his hands, and he didn't even need to see where his piano was to know where to go.

From the huge windows, the moon was shining through, enough light for him to play.

Glancing up at the sky, he was surprised to see a shooting star.

'_It would be nice to see Feliciano finally let go of his pain'_ he thought spontaneously, regretting his embarrassing action as soon as the thought was out of his mind.

Wishing upon a star would never solve anything, yet Austria remembered a time that he'd spent staring up at the sky, hoping for a similar occasion to happen.

His thoughts twirling around in a mix of confusion, melancholy and annoyance at his own feelings, he sat down at his piano, eyes close, and started playing, the notes soft yet haunted, fingers dancing on the keyboard and searching for relief and calm.

It would be long before he left his piano.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** first chapter done. What do you think of it? Everything will start happening in chapter two, so please stay tuned :3

_Pronto (Italian)_ – 'hello' on the phone

_fottuto bastardo (Italian)_ – fucking bastard

_grazie, fratello (Italian)_ – thanks, brother

_bruder (German)_ – brother


	2. What you wish for

**SOY:** second chapter~ thank you for following through till here :) I hope this one will be liked, too! Things get complicated here, so hang on down the ride!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: R

**Warnings:** angst, a few suggestive scenes.

**Pairings:** Germany/Italy, HRE/Chibitalia, HRE/Italy, mentioned Hungar/Prussia/Austria

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Living Wish**

**Chapter 02: What you wish for…**

Once again, Germany woke up feeling off.

Being it the second day in a row, he was quite disgruntled by it, but with sleep clinging at him like a web, what he wanted was to just stay a bit more in his bed and be done with it; the previous day had been so uneventful that Germany had found himself terribly bored, even with the small bird belonging to his brother chirping and fluttering around to distract him.

During the course of the whole day, he had stopped himself from calling Italy five times, and had actually forced himself to _not_ go visit the Italian thrice, too.

When evening finally rolled by, he'd called over, his fingers slipping on the keyboard twice in his haste, but no one had answered, and he had ended up dropping a message on the answering machine, feeling silly, useless and vaguely angered.

And now, the morning after… his uneasiness had yet to disappear.

Groaning slightly, Germany pushed himself up to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and feeling definitely more tired than he should. He was going to try and call Italy's house again this morning and not because he was worried, of course.

Looking to the side, Germany registered the presence of another person in his bed, a head popping out from the blankets, and stood up, stretching his back and getting his shirt from the chair.

Then froze.

Another person was in his bed.

"It–"

Turning around in a flash, Germany grabbed the hem of his blanket and shoved it away; what was revealed caused his body to freeze instantaneously.

Yes, there was Italy in his bed.

But he was not the only one there.

Another person –blond hair of the same colour as Germany, propped up on his elbow with his back turned towards the German, dressed with black, ample clothes and with a strange styled hat on the headboard– was there. One arm wrapped around Italy's body, holding him close.

When the unknown person felt Germany stand up, he turned around, staring at him with eyes that were similar in colour, if only a shade darker than his own, and his arms tightened their hold on the sleeping Italy.

"_Guten Morgen_," he said, eyes narrowing a bit, a smile twitching on his lips.

Germany's muscles tensed at the sight, his mind reeling at the implication of what he was seeing –Italy in the arms of someone else, sleeping away as thought it was normal, and they were both in _his_ bed and–

And the other man's voice was so similar to his own, and even his appearance, and–

It felt like he was one of _them_. A Nation.

Yet, the feeling was somehow incomplete, Germany's senses unable to come to terms with the presence in his bed.

"You" Germany hissed, pushing away his first instinct to grab Italy and hold him in his arms instead, and kick this guy _away_. "_Wer bist du? _" he growled, hands clenched into fists.

The man –again, Germany felt his mind spin around with the knowledge of how similar to him that guy was– shook his head gently, almost as if to hush him. His eyes returned to the sleeping Italian, warming up instantly.

Germany felt his anger bubble up again; what was this guy thinking –coming into his bed, hugging Italy like he _owned_ him, acting as if everything was well in the world…

"Get away from him" he hissed, ready to fight.

All his instincts were yelling at him, screaming of how wrong the scene was, but he could do nothing as long as this unknown person was holding Italy in his arms…

It was then that Italy opened his eyes.

He'd been clinging to unconsciousness for a while, feeling warm and protected and safe, and he hadn't had any kind of nightmare either, so Italy tried in vain to keep sleeping, but there was noise around him, which roused him away from the comfortable darkness.

Without opening his eyes, he snuggled more into the heat, feeling a pair of strong arms embrace him, and silently thanked Prussia –the older German had probably thought of dropping him off in Germany's bed…

There again, Germany had never truly hugged him in bed, so…

Slowly blinking his eyes open, Italy looked up, sight focusing on familiar blond hair and blue eyes that were looking down at him.

He smiled a bit, humming. "Ve~ _Buongiorno_, Ludwig…"

A small chuckle that vibrated through his body as well. "_Guten Morgen_, Italia…"

Italy yawned, still rubbing his chin against the broader chest, and frowned slightly; the voice was a bit off, softer –Germany never spoke this gently to him– and something was wrong.

"Italy, get away from him!"

Ah, there it was –Germany's voice. Commanding, authoritarian, that send a soft shiver through his back. Why did it sound so distant…?

"Hmmmmn" he murmured, not really wanting to get away from the warm embrace. "Is something wrong, Ludwig?"

"Feliciano! Open your eyes! You're not… he's not…" Germany's voice seemed to hesitate and stutter there, so Italy opened his eyes properly and took a good look at the person above him.

"Ve…?"

Blond hair, and blue eyes and… were the eyes a shade darker than they were the previous day? and why was Germany dressed in dark silk clothes…?

"It's been a long time, my Italia… but now I'm back," Germany… was leaning closer now, only that this was _not_ Germany, and Italy's heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and had barely enough time to grasp what was happening that soft lips pressed against his brows.

Gently, the person holding him kissed his eyes, a feathery, warm touch, then kissed his forehead and cheeks, still holding him close, and Italy could barely breathe out of shock, eyes wide.

The same eyes, but darker, filled with a different kind of maturity, the same face, grown up, without the chubbiness of childhood, the same clothes as before…

One of Italy's hands slowly moved up to the man's face, gently tracing his cheeks, his lips, those blue eyes staring at him, that same familiar smile…

"Sa…_ Sacro Romano_…"

His gasp was interrupted by those same lips pressing down against his own.

Then nothing mattered anymore –he was clutching at the body on top of him with all of his strength, those soft, familiar lips kissing his own, then his forehead again, and his cheeks and again his lips…

"You're back" he murmured, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You're back –you're back, you're back…"

"Yes… my sweet Italia, I'm back" the Holy Roman replied, still holding him close to his body. "I'm back to you".

"F… Feliciano?"

The sight of Italy's tears, that look in his eyes, the familiarity with whom that unknown person was treating the Italian, the kisses –everything darted through Germany's chest like a sharpened blade.

Italy knew him, of that he was certain –more than that, he was being kissed, held and coddled, and they were murmuring softly, in a tone so low Germany couldn't hear what they were saying. Yet, by the sight alone, he felt his insides twist painfully.

The sight was… it felt like he was one too many in the room –in _his own_ room.

Hearing his name, Italy turned around, eyes growing wide as he noticed Germany standing there, cheeks aflame, and fists so clenched his arms were trembling in strain.

"V–ve? L–_Ludwig_?"

There was a look of utter confusion in his face as Italy disentangled himself from the man's arms, who let him go and sat up straighter on the bed. Much to Germany's anger, though he couldn't understand why he felt this furious, Italy kept one hand intertwined with that of the strange man.

"Y–you… him…" almost frantic, tears still rolling down his cheeks, Italy didn't know what to think.

There they were –both Holy Roman Empire and Germany. How could that be possible, if the territories…

Wiping his eyes, Italy blinked, trying to calm himself. There was probably some sort of explanation… or was it all a dream? Pinching his skin caused a sharp pain to flare through his arm, so no –this was not a dream.

Then…

"I'm here because of you, Italia… or should I call you… Feliciano?" that name, purred in Holy Roman's deep tone, made Italy shiver. It was the first time Holy Roman had ever said it. "I was allowed to return by a wish. They wished your happiness, all of them" gently, the blond tugged Italy's hand, making the Italian fall back against his chest. "I kept thinking about you, and only you".

Unable to understand, but feeling like his heart could implode any second now, the Italian hid his face in the man's chest, breath coming out in sharp, rapid gasps, shoulders trembling.

Completely ignoring a frozen Germany, Holy Roman leaned forwards, holding Italy's hands in his own and bringing them up to his lips.

"I still love you, Feliciano. With all my heart. I've loved you all this time, even if I was unconscious, and I've wanted to see you again so badly…"

Italy felt his eyes fill with tears again, and sobbed into his hand. A rush of pain mixed with happiness washed over him; he'd wanted, craved such words of recognition, of love…

"B–but what… I mean, how…" again, Italy's eyes flew to Germany, whose face had turned into a mask of steel. "Y–your territories, Holy Roman… how can you _exist_ here–"

"I'm not made of territories anymore, Feliciano" hands still holding him, Holy Roman Empire let his eyes flicker to the frozen German as well. "I'm… I'm just here. I'm not… I'm not Holy Roman Empire anymore, because there are no territories with that name either…"

Brown eyes widened, hands clenching on the silk covering his shoulders. "What… what should I call you… now?"

"Heinrich," he stated, nuzzling at Italy's chest, flushing crimson at being allowed such intimacy. "That is my name, Feliciano".

Cheeks burning red, Italy moved his hands from his shoulders up to the mop of blond hair, messing it with his fingers. It was soft, just like Germany's was.

Heinrich.

Not Holy Roman Empire anymore, just… Heinrich.

He was back –he'd said he loved him… that he'd loved him all this time, even if he was no more… this was what Italy had been waiting for, this sort of feeling –falling from the highest spot in the world, exciting, it made his fingers itch and his heart jump in his throat.

His eyes fell on Germany, though, and he couldn't think about anything to say. He loved… he also loved… but the German had never shown anything, not even a flicker of something in return other than kindness, other than…

Holy Roman Empire was back –somehow, he was back. All that love Italy had buried deep inside himself was suddenly resurfacing with the strength of a tsunami, threatening to destroy his sanity. He wanted nothing more than bounce, dance and yell and sing, and cling at Holy… at _Heinrich_'s body, and cry until he had no more tears.

But what about his feelings for Germany? Germany was also there. Had always been there.

Germany was so kind, and Italy had fallen for him on his own, not depending on his previous feelings for HRE; and yet, now –what could he do now?

Holy Roman was here, and so was Germany and… what did that mean?

"V… ve…"

"Feliciano" once again, Italy couldn't read anything in Germany's tone. He just couldn't understand him, and for that reason he had never revealed how strong his feelings for the blond were –and now… "Who is this guy. What is happening?"

Still clutching at Heinrich's bigger frame, Italy forced himself to search for… something, anything, in the German's expression, but found nothing. Slowly, really slowly, he removed himself from HRE's hold, and stepped towards Germany.

He didn't really know what to do or _think_, but any thought he could have had was shoved aside because –HRE was back he was back and_ohGod_hecameback_tohim_…

From behind Italy, the once HRE stared impassively at Germany, eyes filled with expectation, unmoving –almost teasing. Germany had yet to shift from his tense position.

"T–this was… this is…" a quick glance behind (_to make sure he was still there_) and Italy was once again looking at Germany, a smile stretching on his lips. It was a bit empty, though. "Ludwig, this is Holy Roman Empire! He was… he… my first love".

Germany's body almost shook, but he managed to keep it as still as stone.

He had not expected this. At all.

He remembered Italy telling him that he'd crushed on a boy once, but… he'd not expected him to reappear –to be one of them– and what was that speech about not having territories? If he was a Nation like them, how could he function without being…

And more importantly, how could he reappear after so much… and have Italy throw himself in his arms without second thoughts?

Italy should have… he should have…

'_What? It's not like he belongs to anyone'_ his rational conscious stated in a clipped tone. _ 'So what?' _

Indeed. And yet–

'_I thought I should protect him,' _ some other part of Germany replied. _ 'I… that guy…' _

He shouldn't touch him like that.

He shouldn't be allowed to hug Italy –to _kiss_ him– and act as if they were so close, his face so smug as if that guy, that Heinrich, owned Italy or shared with him something private…

Which he was, Germany thought.

They had kissed. Not a simple peck on the cheek.

A _loving_ kiss…

Something inside Germany clenched painfully, but he just dismissed the feeling, because there wasn't time to feel sick right now –not that he was disgusted by Italy kissing a male.

He wasn't sure why, yet, but it wasn't important, at least not in the present moment.

"What is he doing here?" he demanded to know, voice so icy that he inwardly felt bad at the Italian's wince.

"Uh… ve~ I don't really know, Ludwig" he almost whimpered, cowering a bit. Germany didn't know why, since he wasn't really angry at him –why should he be angry if Italy was being kissed by someone else? "He… I don't know… but he's there, Ludwig!" what was that tone in his voice? Despair? Why would Italy be–

"Feliciano" Heinrich stated, and Germany felt his eyebrow twitch –that guy was trying to call back Italy's attention to him! "You wouldn't mind telling me more… ah, about this time, right? And is… is this your house?"

Germany felt words bubble in his mouth, and he almost said them aloud –that no, it wasn't Italy's house, but that it could as well be since he came around every single day anyway, to sleep, spend some time, cook…– but bit them back.

Why would he say that? It wasn't a race of any sort.

"Ve~ this is… Ludwig's house, Heinrich," that subtle tone–shifting, sweeter, maybe even warmer, Germany felt his insides clench again. "I have my own house!" once again he was bubbling up with happiness, returning at the other man's side, grabbing his hands into his own. "I became strong, see? I have a house for myself and brother now!"

Germany bit back another harsh retort (_ "You're not strong at all, Feliciano, you keep weeping and crawling to me whenever one of my dogs scares you!" _), feeling somewhat spiteful and not knowing the reason why, but watched in dismay as the once HRE tightened his own grasp on Italy's hands, smiling gently at him.

"That is splendid, Feliciano! I knew you had it in you…" Italy's cheeks flushed red. "You've always been strong".

Germany almost snorted. Almost.

"I've waited and waited and…" Italy sniffled, but it was HRE who wiped his renewed tears away. "It was painful and I wanted you to come back so much… but you were… and then…"

Once again, it felt as if the two had forgotten they were in Germany's bedroom, with Germany there, staring at them. And once again, Germany felt the odd one out.

"Shh… it's ok. I'm here now. Will you show me your house? Will you cook for me your delicious pasta?"

"Ah… o–of course, Holy… I mean, Heinrich!"

Germany knew he wasn't supposed to feel like he'd bitten something bitter, yet he had the sudden need to vomit. And surely the fact that his blood was boiling had something to do with the new flu floating around, not with the sight.

Then Italy turned to him again, apparently hesitating, and Germany felt (_a roaring heat in his belly, demanding Italy to ignore that other guy and _stay_, because he'd been the worried one the previous day, when Italy had not been at his side_) almost smug, but then he steered himself.

He saw Italy was fine, and whilst glad about it, he was almost glowering in anger. He wanted that man out of his house, even though he wanted to shove him away whilst keeping Italy in… and if that couldn't be done, well…

"I have work to do" he stated, clearing his throat and erasing any trace of blush he had on his cheeks. "You can go anywhere you please, why would you ask _me_ about that?"

Italy's look then –Germany could have called it disappointment, if he'd been looking at him at all.

He wasn't.

"Ve… I'll… I'll see you later, Germany…"

Germany watched with the corner of one eye as what had been called Heinrich grabbed Italy's hand, fingers intertwining, and dragged him out of the door.

When they were gone, and the noise of the front door slamming close echoed to him, Germany fell down on his bed, hiding his face in his hands.

Why did he feel so… stupid now?

…–…–…–…

It was hard not to let confusion eat him away, and Italy realised just how truthful that thought was when he stepped out of Germany's house, and Holy Roman, no, Heinrich, enveloped him in a hug.

The scents that came directly from his childhood wrapped around him, not fleeting memories anymore, and Italy felt fresh tears well up in his eyes again.

Holy Roman was back. He was back for him. There.

In his arms…

"I missed you… so much_, Sacro Romano Impero…_" he murmured, unable to separate from him –a statement of his presence. "I missed you. I tried fighting as well, I tried to be strong for you, but I really am not… I cried and ran away, and…"

Another kiss on his forehead, dark folds of silk covering his vision.

"You were so strong, my Italia… you didn't crumble down, and instead you became a Nation… real strength cannot be measured by fighting, and wars do not make one strong at all…" that voice, lulling him, filling him with love.

The only person that could love him. Because Germany…

He'd hoped for so long. If there was something Italy needed, was for someone to love him. For someone to whom he could devote all of his love, too. Trying hard to give up on his Holy Roman Empire, moving on, only to fall for the remains of the same person that had been his first love…

And to not be reciprocated.

And now… and now…

"Feliciano?"

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Italy looked up into concerned, blue eyes. He smiled slowly, as if trying to make sense of the whole situation –it still felt far too unreal.

But HRE was here. Was there anything else Italy could think or hope for? His HRE was there with him. Hesitation was washed away, replaced with happiness.

"Ve, Heinrich… I have to bring you home now! I'll cook for you! Delicious pasta! A–and… and tons of sweets, too!"

Hands intertwined still, Italy put behind his insecurities, and pulled the blond with him towards his house, smile gaining strength.

He could make this work. Somehow. No matter how his heart was beating painfully.

On the side of the road, bags of groceries scattered on the ground at his feet, Prussia stared at the retreating duo with wide crimson eyes.

"W–_what_?"

Gathering the fallen bags in his arms again, Prussia ran inside the house, almost frantic. He didn't know what was happening, but that had been West, dressed as… "the fuck did happen? How could that be… and today, of all days? Was it… was…"

"_Bruder_?"

Prussia would deny it afterwards, but taken by surprise, his yell was almost as high–pitched as that of a woman. The groceries fell from his arms again, potatoes and apples rolling everywhere.

"W–West? What… but you… and… that dress and…"

Prussia fell into an uneasy silence as he stared at the dishevelled appearance of his brother, his troubled expression hidden behind a mask of nothingness, and somehow felt like hitting him.

"I guess you saw _Heinrich_" the blond German muttered, voice bordering on venom when mentioning that name. "They just left, too".

"Hein…" Prussia cleared his throat, feeling his mouth raw and dry. "Who… that was… I thought you…"

"He's similar to me –probably one of the descendants of Germania" Germany continued in a monotone. "Feliciano said he was the Holy… Roman Empire, I think… he appeared tonight in my bed" a vague flush, barely noticeable. "He kissed Feliciano" he added as an afterthought, and his voice trembled slightly.

Prussia flopped down on the ground, sitting on a pack of already broken eggs and not noticing it. "West, how the _fuck did this happen_? He shouldn't be alive at all!"

Germany's eyes weren't looking at him at all, staring at the wall at Prussia's side. "He said… something about wishes… I am not sure. That his love never stopped".

"I… I need to call Roderich" Prussia muttered, arm seeking his phone. "There might be a problem".

"He said he loved him" Germany continued, mechanically picking up the discarded groceries. "Clearly wanted to get a ruse out of me… I let them go, of course," he stood up again, ignoring the look his brother was giving him, "what do you want for lunch?"

Prussia's hands clenched around his phone.

At Italy's house, Romano was busy preparing himself breakfast, the usual scowl gone from his face, sniffing the strong scent of coffee in the air and thinking about calling Spain; he'd received a call from Hungary telling him that his brother was still at Germany's house, and despite being less than happy about that, he had been reassured that his brother was asleep and had managed to pass another one of _those days_.

Romano really didn't know how he could stand that, year after year, visiting the grave of his lost love, and unable to make things proceed with the person he was currently in love with.

If it were him…

The door slammed open.

"Lovino! Lovino!"

Blinking in surprise, Romano placed down his wooden spoon and turned around, scowl already back in place –this was a first, for his brother… usually he spent the day at Germany, and…

Italy bounced in the kitchen, holding hands with Germany. Romano's scowl deepened, even though inside he was feeling, if not quite relieved, at least appeased. It had taken enough as it was, and even though he disliked the potato bastard, his brother could be… happy…

His thought–process stopped as he took notice of the clothes Germany was wearing, an old style he could barely remember seeing when he was a kid, black and flowing, long boots, of a pure, resistant silk…

No, this was _not_ Germany.

Romano realised this when he stared deeply into the blue eyes of the man at Italy's side. They were darker and somewhat… softer, nicer, and not filled with exasperation, either. Different.

And the build, now that he looked at it better. This wasn't as macho as Germany was. Yet, still stronger than both Italies.

Another potato bastard that he knew nothing of?

"Who the hell is this guy, Feliciano?"

"I'm Heinrich," he presented himself, bowing slightly. He took his hat off, presenting a mop of blond hair to the older Italian. "I'm Feliciano's".

Italy flushed crimson at HRE's words, whilst Romano's frown deepened in confusion. "Who…?"

"He's… he's Holy Roman Empire, Lovino!" moving in a flash, Italy's nails dig into Romano's wrist. Romano backed away, shocked at the look in his younger brother's eyes –a mix of hope, pain and happiness, all rolled into one. "He… he _appeared_ just like this and… and he's back!"

South Italy took a moment to connect everything together. When he did, his eyes widened in shock, staring at the blond man in front of him.

It couldn't be possible. The Empire's territories had been divided between Switzerland, Italy himself, Austria… how could it be that he was standing there, smiling and…

And holding Italy's hand.

Romano backed away, too surprised to speak –but that was ok for Italy, who was speaking again, a bubble of brightness.

"I'm going to show him the house and then cook for him!" dancing around, Italy seemed to remember something, because he rushed out of the kitchen, muttering about paintings under his breath.

Left alone in the same room as that man, Romano backed away from him slowly, eyes never leaving his form.

"You can't be back" he muttered in Italian, shaking his head.

"I am," was the soft reply. "I was brought back to life for the sole purpose to bring Italy happiness. That is the reason I am here".

"What brought you here? Are you… are you going to leave again? Will you hurt…" Romano cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth. "_What_ are you, Holy Roman Empire?"

A soft chuckle, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I love Italy," he murmured, smiling. "That's the only important thing. I've always loved him, and always will".

Then he turned around and left, following Italy's bubbling laughter upstairs.

…–…–…–…

Germany stared down at his far too cooked potatoes with a grimace; this had never happened before –usually he could cook his dishes perfectly, yet he'd let the potatoes boil too much, resulting in a mushy pile of food that was far from being edible, and had even roasted his wurst too much, which made them black and probably carcinogenic.

With a start, he realised he'd been holding his spoon so tightly that the wood looked ready to crack in his hand, and let it go, watching it roll on the ground without moving.

He didn't know why he was feeling so off, or angry, but definitely cooking was not an option, either.

Besides, Prussia had disappeared somewhere, and he had no one to blame for the cracked eggs in the corridor, either. Germany flexed his fingers, almost surprised by his own anger.

It had been years since he'd felt a similar rage run through his veins, and it usually was related to Italy somehow –during the war, flirting with cute girls, not following his orders, being generally idiotic…

His brow twitched.

'_That stupid guy –appearing in my bed and ranting about stupid wishes… it's illogical! No one can appear like this, especially in someone else's bed, and hug Italy like that! And that whole thing about being in love…'_ cheeks turning red, Germany grabbed a mop and tried to clean the mess he'd made.

The cleaning didn't help, which was also strange.

'_And Feliciano? He didn't have to follow him around. Not after being gone for the whole day, yesterday… and presenting himself in my bed, too… acting like the world had just ended, or something…'_

It made his blood boil again, but why would it?

Italy was his own nation.

'_Hah. Strong. Yes. Crying to me every time he needed consoling, every time something scared him… that is not strength'_ he continued his inner rant, unmindful of how spiteful he was. _ 'It's not like I can spend my whole day worrying over that useless Italy. Besides, he was looking happy…'_

Yes… happy.

With someone else.

Germany had no rights to feel cheated, right? Because it wasn't like Italy belonged to him, or anything of that sort. Certainly he didn't want to own Italy. So what if he'd grown accustomed to being with him, to sleep in the same bed and cook for him, or have Italy cook for him… or have Italy annoy him to rest and take it easy…

Or make him take a walk, massaging his back, telling him silly tales, and demanding kisses, and hugs and…

'_And that… Heinrich. He kissed him. On the lips,'_ throwing the mop in the sink, Germany slammed the wasted food in the bin, growling under his breath. _ 'That… that was…'_

Why would someone want to kiss Italy like that?

He wasn't the most beautiful person ever, nor the most attractive; he had not many qualities, he was loud and far too cheerful, knew nothing on how to be practical, only thought about pasta, all day, and siesta, too…

Who would want to kiss him?

Yet that Heinrich clearly wanted to. Germany couldn't judge by watching only, but he felt, in some part of him, deeply buried, that the guy wasn't lying about his feelings. The way he held Italy, as if he were the most important thing in his life…

Germany felt close to punching the wall, and he could not understand why, either.

If Italy was happy –and he _had_ been happy… crying, but not out of fright (_like when Germany had yelled at him… guilt curled around his heart, making him flinch at the thought_)– then Germany had nothing to say, right?

So what if he was currently spending time with that guy who came out of nowhere?

Kissing him, being held by him –maybe demanding kisses and hugs like he did with Germany…

Germany surely wouldn't go and protect him. He had to take care of himself, he was a Nation, he had to look out for himself. No matter how illogical the whole situation was. Germany had absolutely nothing to do with that.

Trying to get Italy away from that guy was useless. Also wanting to punch that Heinrich wasn't worth… wasn't worth…

Why was he still thinking about it?

A fleeting image of a broken, crying Italy resurfaced to his mind –a memory belonging to the war, right after his humans had decided to switch sides– and once again the blond Nation's hands clenched around the spoon, barely aware that the wood almost cracked in his hold.

Back then, he'd promised Italy they wouldn't allow any human to separate them –Germany thought of Italy as a friend, right? Then he would always act as a good friend would.

This was not a human. This was one of them. A Nation –territory-less, but still a Nation.

He was taking Italy away.

Germany didn't want that. He wanted to have Italy sleep in his bed again. Have the Italian cook lunch, dinner, breakfast for him, demanding pasta at the most random moments of the day, falling asleep on his shoulder and force him to take the breaks that Germany would never admit needing…

He wanted Italy to keep asking for hugs and kisses. To come running to him for reassurance and love, and anything he could think…

He wanted to kiss Italy, too. Hold him close, protect him from others and never let him go…

Blue eyes widened.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** ok, another chapter's done! What did you think about it? Please comment! Thank you!

_Guten morgen_ (German) – Good morning

_Wer bist du?_ (German) – Who are you?

_Buongiorno_ (Italian) – Good morning

_Sacro Romano Impero _(Italian) – Holy Roman Empire

_bruder _(German) – brother


	3. With a warm smile

**SOY:** third chapter. This is the last one. I hope this ending won't sound… unfitting? Unfulfilling? Unsatisfying? For any of you readers. Please enjoy!

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: R

**Warnings:** angst, a few suggestive scenes.

**Pairings:** Germany/Italy, HRE/Chibitalia, HRE/Italy, mentioned Hungar/Prussia/Austria

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Living Wish**

**Chapter 03: With a warm smile**

A plate was placed down in front of him, and Heinrich stared up at wide, expectant eyes as Italy stood next to him, almost trembling.

The plate was filled with _spaghetti al pomodoro_, one of Italy's favourites, and Holy Roman clumsily gathered a forkful of them, sucking them in his mouth and swallowing.

Sauce flicked everywhere and he flushed crimson, quickly wiping it away in shame, only calming down at Italy's amusement.

"That's delicious," he stated truthfully.

Italy's face brightened up, a smile that made Holy Roman flush crimson. "G–_grazie_! I'm glad you like it!"

"I like anything that you can make, even more so if you prepare it for me, Feliciano" with a smile, the blond pulled the Italian into his lap, scooping up another forkful of spaghetti and holding it in front of Italy's mouth.

Equally flustered at the motion, Italy giggled and opened his mouth, quickly swallowing the pasta, and allowing the German's tongue to clean his lips.

On the door of the kitchen, Romano couldn't but stare in shock at them, uneasy at the sight but at the same time flustered at the warm, loving attitude. Italy looked so happy…

This was…

The entrance door was slammed open, and South Italy turned around, moving through the corridor only to bump straight into Hungary's chest as the woman made her way in.

"Urgh!" Romano fell on the ground, and looked up at the other Nation with a clear pout. "The hell, Elizaveta!"

"Ah –Lovino, I have no time for this, sorry! I had a call from Gilbert, he said that–"

"Holy Roman Empire is back," the Italian finished for her, watching with a vague sort of amusement as her eyes widened even more. "Yes. It's true. He's… they are… they are in the kitchen".

"You have to be kidding me –this _cannot_ happen!" ignoring the still fallen Romano, Hungary ran towards the kitchen, opening the door wide, and freezing on the spot.

There they were –he was older, he was…

"Holy Roman Empire" she murmured, almost reverently.

As if he came out from a dream, or a book –older, mature…

Holding Italy in his arms, kissing him…

The blond parted from Italy, looking to the side where Hungary was staring at him. In a second, his lips had twitched upwards, eyes brightened, and he stood up, careful to let Italy down first.

"Elizaveta!" then he was hugging her –a clumsy, embarrassed hug, and Hungary was shocked to see he was taller than her, clearly stronger, yet so similar to… "You've become beautiful".

"You are… how…" unable to speak, she would have fallen on the ground if not for the other's grip on her arms, then she was being pulled to a chair, Italy offering her a glass of water, with a worried expression.

"Are you ok, sister Eli?" he asked, frowning.

Hungary couldn't but notice how one of his hands was intertwined with that of HRE.

"I… how…" she shook her head, at loss of words.

"It was thanks to you… and Mr. Roderich, and brother Gilbert," Holy Roman Empire (_God. It was him. Alive. In blood and bones_) stated, smiling at her. He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it gently, reverently. "Had you not wished for this, for my Italy to be happy…"

Ears buzzing in shock, Hungary vaguely grasped the meaning of his words, yet couldn't wrap her mind around them.

Wish.

A wish.

'_I wish Feli could be happy'_.

Her wish. Was this real? Had her wish just been granted in such an… unexpected way?

"…. I wouldn't be there," he concluded.

No. she hadn't wanted this to happen –she had wished that… Germany…

Glancing at a smiling Italy, the way he kept his eyes on their joined hands, Hungary felt a sudden fear roll through her.

Was this even good? How could a wish hold so much power to make something like this possible…?

"Don't worry, Elizaveta," Holy Roman Empire was still looking at her, eyes flashing with some sort of knowledge that she couldn't understand. "I am here for a reason".

She had no time to say anything else about it, because Holy Roman Empire straightened up, still holding Italy's hand. "You will have to excuse me, now, Elizaveta," he stated stiffly, cheeks turning red. "I am going to keep a promise to Feliciano and paint with him".

"O–of course," she nodded, feeling as if she was missing the bigger picture, but unable to clearly work yet. "Feli… what about Ludw–"

She interrupted herself as she noticed Italy's face dim lightly. Prussia had not been clear when he'd called over, babbling about HRE coming back to life (and being unable to call Austria since he was neck deep into a meeting with his boss), but what she had managed to understand was that Germany was still at home, unsure on what to do.

Hungary stared at Italy's face, feeling the pull of two opposite forces –squeal in happiness because… well, this was HRE. He was back. Somehow… _somehow_. It made Italy happy, right? But at the same time, HRE had not been there for the last centuries, at Italy's side. Watching over him, spending time with him…

Germany had. Why wasn't Germany there?

Italy's eyes had been pained when Hungary had mentioned Germany's name. HRE was back, yet Italy's thoughts were also on Germany. How could that not happen, when he had both of his loved ones present and…

Was that stupid German really so thick headed to not notice about Italy's pain?

Was he really not interested, in the end? Hungary had been sure he would get it, but if even HRE's presence couldn't do it, then…

She stood up, nodding at them and running out of the room. She had somewhere to go.

…–…–…–…

Italy was not happy.

There was something inside him that was squirming, almost hoping to be let out, but he couldn't understand what it was.

He was spending time with HRE, he should be so happy that nothing else mattered, yet he kept thinking about Germany's cold face, and thought sticking in his mind, the mental image wouldn't let him go.

Trying to forget that expression –why had Germany looked like he wanted Italy gone?

Maybe finding someone you didn't know in your bed was strange, but the coldness he'd reserved for Italy was far too much; it wasn't Italy's fault, after all, and still…

Maybe giving him time to adjust and forgive would be enough. That emotionless face would disappear from his mind, and Italy would–

"Feliciano?" a warm hand on his cheek, and Italy blinked, staring into dark blue eyes. "A–am I doing this wrong? Are you bored?"

Eyes widening, Italy shook his head wildly, his fingers gripping tightly around the brush he was holding.

HRE was here with him –he shouldn't be thinking about Germany anymore. That wasn't an option anymore, he should have realised that long ago, before it could start being so painful… there was Heinrich with him now, and the blond loved him.

Spending time eating, walking, painting together… hadn't he wanted this? wasn't this his secret dream?

Then why did he still want to run to Germany?

Why did Ludwig's face keep overlapping that of Heinrich?

Italy wanted to paint with Germany. He wanted to play soccer with him, allow the German man to read for him, in his gruff, hesitant voice that made him feel so enamoured.

He wanted to cook for Germany, make him eat all he could make, and wanted Germany to flush in embarrassment, muttering compliments that would make Italy feel important.

He wanted to curl at Germany's side and be kissed and held and…

"I–is this ok?" once again, Heinrich's voice called him out from his thoughts.

Italy blinked and looked up, feeling his lips tug upwards at the amusing picture of a cat that the other had tried to paint. Once again, as if no time had passed, Italy found himself leaning forwards, hand grasping that of the Holy Roman, gently helping him correct the way the paws had to look.

Heinrich was blushing and staring more at their joined hands than at the painting, smiling at Italy in a way that made his heart flutter painfully.

Gently, Heinrich cupped his chin and dropped a soft kiss on his cheeks, smiling at him with open, bright eyes.

"I've always admired your skills at painting," he murmured, kissing him again, this time on his lips. "I am glad I could see you paint again…"

Italy swallowed down his uneasiness, and pushed Germany away from his thoughts. There was no place for him. there couldn't be.

Looking away from Holy Roman, Italy resumed his painting, trying to chase away the darkness in his heart with bright, vivid colours.

…–…–…–…

"What are you doing here?"

Germany looked up sharply, staring at an enraged Hungary ran into his office, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

How did she get into his house? He was sure he'd locked the door…

"I don't understand what you mean" he replied, satisfied with the way his voice didn't waver. A furious Hungary was enough to scare away even Belarus. "I'm working".

That was blatantly a lie, one that Hungary could see through without even trying, if the bottles of beer scattered everywhere in the office were anything to go by.

Yes, Germany had decided to drown himself in alcohol. Effective and pleasant, it could make the pain in his heart vanish. If he managed to get drunk enough, of course.

"Why aren't you… why aren't you trying to get Feli back?" Hungary kicked one bottle with her high heels, and it sailed in the air only to fall down on the carpet with an empty thud. Germany grimaced, glad she had kicked an empty bottle and not one half–full.

"Why should I?" he grunted, turning his back to her and searching for some leftover beer. He wasn't even close to being drunk, but it appeared like Prussia had already gotten his hands on his reserves.

All of his reserves, even the hidden ones. Damn him.

"Don't you…" Hungary hesitated, her anger suddenly dissipating as she was faced with the question nobody had dared to ask to Germany. "Don't you… care for Feliciano?" she continued, choosing her words carefully.

Germany's hands turned into tight fists.

"Of course I do" he mumbled, cheeks reddening. "That is exactly why I am here".

All other Nations had probably laughed at Germany behind his back for ages, and he was finally realising that they were right –he had been so very _blind_. Not realising someone else's feelings was one thing, but to not being able to realise his own feelings for a person was different.

He had been swimming in denial for so long, simply taking for granted that Italy would always stay at his side, smiling and hugging him and demanding his attention. He had never thought that one day someone could just appear from thin air and take him away.

He'd been a blind _idiot_.

He loved Italy. He'd loved him for… he wasn't even sure since when, actually –the more he thought back now, the more he realised how important Italy's gestures of friendship and care had been for him.

His behaviour had somehow turned from being annoying to something he secretly enjoyed; the shows of affection, his hugs, even his pleas to be kissed… Germany wanted Italy's attention to be on him, and no one else.

"Ludwig… Heinrich is with him… he's… they are…" Hungary really couldn't say the words aloud, but the stiffening of Germany's shoulders made her aware that he knew exactly what was going on. "Are you giving up on him?"

Germany turned around sharply, and only a strong pain coming from his fist made him realise he had punched the wall. He stared down at his hand in shock, but the pain flaring through his arm helped him focus again.

"I… I want him to be happy" he growled, tone lowering into that of a wounded dog.

"Are you sure he's happy with _him_, then?" Hungary's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Haven't you seen his face?" Germany refused to look at the woman and concentrated his attention towards the wall. "That person… that… Heinrich… Feliciano clearly loves him! He's happy!"

Hungary's reply caught him unprepared, as she backed away from him and looked out of the window, voice calm.

"Happier than when he's with you?"

He froze, and slowly looked at her, blinking softly to calm the wave of emotions filling him. It wasn't easy to control what he felt, not when he had a long history of repressing them –yet now the anger at the Holy Roman Empire, at himself for his own idiocy, the feeling of uselessness… everything was washing through him, stealing his breath.

How was he supposed to even think about it all when the mere mention of _him_ sent his brain into fits of fury?

"Shouldn't you also think about what _you_ want, too, Ludwig?" Hungary was smiling, and it was her smile that rattled Germany's control of his emotions once again. "You say that Feliciano is important to you… but you should also seek your own happiness, not just his".

Was it just this simple? He wanted Italy. But that didn't mean Italy would want him back.

"If you feel angered that he chose _him_, why don't you try to talk to Feli?" Hungary shook her head. "If you stay here, you'll lose him. Is that what you want?"

"… I…" no, obviously not. But Germany didn't want to force his feelings on Italy, not now that there was someone else for the Italian nation to lo…

His fist found its way to the wall again, and he bit on his lips to keep calm; thinking about that person stealing Italy away from him…

"You never showed Feli that you thought of him as anything different than a friend, Ludwig… how could he consider you as a potential love if you never thought of yourself as one either?" Hungary's smile had turned pained –familiar, yet disconcerting. "I don't want either of you to be hurt, so please, Ludwig…"

Germany clenched his fists once more, closing his eyes.

"Just…" she turned her back to him, deciding to leave. "For once, do the right thing, Ludwig, don't let it go without fighting".

Her footsteps echoed in the silence, together with the front door opening and closing, and Germany fell down on a chair, hiding his face in his hands.

…–…–…–…

Heinrich gently brushed his hand against Italy's cheek, staring deeply into the brown eyes of his love. Italy let out a soft whimper, moving closer to his touch.

"_Meine Italien,_" he murmured, leaning forwards again.

Their lips touched, another chaste kiss, and HRE used that moment to push forwards, trapping Italy's heated body underneath his own; lapping gently at Italy's lips, he traced them with his tongue, slipping past them and ravishing his Italy.

One hand slipped lower, brushing down to the Italian's sides, cheeks flushing as he dared to slip underneath the blue shirt, meeting the naked skin underneath.

Italy mewled in the kiss, arms arching to grasp at his back, eyes falling shut.

Heinrich smiled, hand brushing upwards, fingers mapping out Italy's chest, massaging his nipples, lips moving to his neck, lavishing it with attention.

"Ah… H–Heinrich…"

Hands moving lower…

"Y–you're ok with me being… I mean… I am…" flushing crimson, embarrassed of his own words, Italy tried to stop the wandering hands of Holy Roman Empire from moving _too_ low.

It had moved so quickly, all considered –Italy didn't even know if he wanted to slow things down or gather Heinrich into his arms and beg for more contact; the day had been a blur, and now…

"A male?" similarly flushed cheeks, Heinrich chuckled against Italy's neck. "I realise you're a male, even though I didn't know, back then… but Feliciano is still the person I fell in love with… why wouldn't I be ok with _this_?"

Fingers gently cupped Italy's groin, having him fall back on the bed, flushing at the intimate touch, moaning softly.

Completely abandoned on the bed, Italy could only _feel_ as HRE devoted all of his attention to his body, reverent, each touch gentle and probing, making him shiver in pleasure.

Fingers on his nipples, tongue licking his neck, lips sucking on it, one of Heinrich's hands intertwined with his own…

Having never been touched that way by anyone –that sweetly, with such a tender, loving touch– Italy couldn't compare what he was feeling to anything he had known before. It was… overwhelming… pleasant–

'_How much since I've wanted Ludwig to touch me like this?'_

Italy froze.

This was Holy Roman, not Germany.

Here he was, being held and loved and showered with care by Heinrich, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Germany.

The same Germany he'd devoted his whole attention for almost a century, spending time with him, cooking for him, sleeping in his bed, soothed by the soft, even breathing, by his frame outlined by the moon's light from the window…

Suddenly, HRE's touches lost all their meaning.

"S–stop" he pleaded, shivering when the hands roaming on his body stilled.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the deep blue ones of Heinrich, filled with love, and felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't understand, but he had to _think_. He couldn't let him continue, not when he still wanted Germany to be the one to…

Heinrich moved away from him, as if sensing the clogged up feelings piling up behind the Italian's brown eyes, and with steady fingers he wiped away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and that he'd not noticed.

"I… I…" Italy shook his head, sitting on the bed and staring at anything but Heinrich.

He'd loved Germany, and had felt so guilty for that –HRE and Germany were two different Nations, and one was gone, whilst the other was still here, yet Italy had been unable to forget about his first love, feeling bad for his inability to let him go.

He'd thought that his feelings for Germany had stemmed over his love for HRE, despite his own words and his own denial… but now that he seen both of them together, he'd realised that they were different.

The kid he'd loved when little, and the man he'd fallen in love with during both World Wars… just like he'd said more than once to his heart, to others, Germany was his love.

He loved HRE dearly, but…

He also loved Germany just as much. Maybe even more. Because maybe Germany didn't return his feelings, but that didn't mean Italy loved him any less… he'd been at his side so much, helping him, spending time with him, protecting him from dangers, consoling him when nightmares approached…

His feelings for Germany were strong, deeper and more real than what he'd felt for Holy Roman Empire, despite him being here as well, now…

To be true to himself, he couldn't keep doing things with HRE –because even if he'd come back, even if he was back after so much… Italy had already fallen in love with someone else, and this… Heinrich, and Ludwig…

He couldn't. He wanted _Germany_.

How could he explain all the multitude of feelings inside him? How could he tell his HRE that in all that time, he'd missed him yet he'd fallen in love with someone else?

Why did it feel like he was cheating on both of them now?

"Feliciano…" HRE's voice was warm, understanding, one hand still on his cheek, warm and comforting, and–

"I can't" he murmured. "You… Heinrich… why did you come back? How did you come back?"

HRE smiled. The same smile Italy loved so much. "I am here for you. Only you. To make you happy…"

"Feliciano!"

The door of his bedroom slammed open, and there he was –Germany, dishevelled and angry, looking for once completely and utterly distressed. Both Italy and HRE turned towards him, Italy's eyes widening in shock.

"Ve… ve~ L–Ludwig?" cheeks aflame, Italy curled up on himself, not sure of what was going on.

At the sight of the two on the bed, Germany faltered and took a step back, eyes darting between Italy and the Holy Roman Empire, suddenly losing all his drive.

HRE stood up slowly, cracking his neck with a smug smirk, and stared straight into Germany's eyes.

"Do you need to say something to _meine Italien_, Ludwig?"

Had he not spoken, Germany would have backpedalled away from the room, ashamed and losing all his courage to finally sort things out with Italy, his rage and possessiveness faltering with the knowledge of what the two were actually doing, but when he heard Heinrich call Italy his own, Germany felt his anger resurface again.

He could not allow him _that_.

"Feliciano!" he yelled again, ignoring the way his own cheeks burned red. "I… I cannot let him take you away from _me_! I… I love you!"

He stood there, panting, one hand clenched around the doorframe, eyes staring at Italy and only at him.

It had taken so much for him to move and come here, to finally tell Italy exactly what his feelings were… he didn't want anything to interrupt.

Italy gasped, his heart soaring to his throat, constricting and ready to burst.

Germany had just…

"I…" he didn't know what to say.

"Feliciano, I… _Io te… ti… __Io ti am_o" the German Nation grunted out, hoping that his Italian was correct. "I'm… I couldn't realise it before, I was… I was an idiot, but I… you're important to me. Your presence, just… _you_, Feliciano" he was almost desperate now, grasping for the right words to express his feelings.

He felt that he was going to burst into flames, so hot his cheeks felt, but he had no intentions to stop or back down.

"I… I know you like _him_, Feliciano," he continued, pointing an accusing finger towards HRE, who was regarding him with what could have been a satisfied smile, "but… I had to take this chance and tell you, because I've been blind for a long time. I was the one at your side for the last century. I was the one who protected you during the war, and afterwards. You cooked for me, spent time with me –slept in my bed" burning in embarrassment, Germany cleared his throat "I don't want this to end. I want more from you. Kiss You, hold you in my arms… I love you, Feliciano, and I couldn't but think that if you allowed us to be this… _close_, it might mean you feel something for me as well".

For a moment, Italy completely forgot HRE's presence, and stared up at Germany's wide eyes, tears still falling down his cheeks. "I… is this the truth?"

"It is" Germany's eyes were deep and serious, his lips tightened in a thin line. "I came to expect your presence in my life so much that I never paid attention to my own feelings for you… it feels like I've loved you for so long, yet I've only realised it now…"

Flushing, Germany came to a halt, and finally looked away.

Italy didn't know what to say, what to think –Germany's words were exactly what he'd been hoping for, what he'd craved to hear, his heart so full–

He had waited these words from Germany, _not_ the Holy Roman Empire. Because even though he still loved the memory of his Holy Roman, holding him dear in his heart, he had been unable to understand that he'd already let go of that lost memory, loving someone else.

If Holy Roman Empire hadn't returned, making him face the reality of his feelings… Italy would have never realised it. He would have still kept his feelings tightly suppressed in his heart, seeing Germany as nothing but a painful reminder of Holy Roman, refusing to truly believe that the two were really different.

Even if Heinrich was here, even if he'd devoted his attention to him, making him happy, making him smile, Italy's heart had not been with him, but with Germany.

He had grown to love Germany for being _Germany_. Ludwig. A separate entity, someone he could love despite everything.

At first, Italy had still seen Germany as a substitute for his Holy Roman, refusing to get any closer in fear that everything could change, that this Germany would reveal himself to be too similar to his old love…

He had been wrong. Germany had things in common with the Holy Roman Empire, yes, but the more Italy had spent time with him, the more he had realised that the two were different, that they were not the same.

And he had fallen in love with Germany because he was Germany.

It was so simple, yet so painful, and Italy felt his chest constrict suddenly. There wasn't really a choice to be made, after all. "I–"

A pair of strong arms embraced him, as Heinrich held him close for a moment. The warm familiar lips brushed against his forehead again, then Holy Roman Empire was standing up, smiling at him, with nothing but warmth in his eyes.

"That's it, isn't it?" he murmured. "You made your decision".

Italy felt suddenly cold. "Hein–"

"I told you, my Italy… I've always loved you, and I never stopped, not even for a moment," he turned around, facing Germany, who was looking at him in shock. "Feelings such as those would only grow with time, right? Since the heart is still the same".

Italy blinked, and suddenly Holy Roman's body blurred slightly in front of him.

He walked towards Germany, and with every step he took, his whole body turned more transparent, glittering in fragments –first his hands, legs, the hem of his cloak, then his hat, his arms, his torso…

"Wai–" Italy desperately shifted forwards, one arm extending towards the fading frame of his first love, but HRE was only staring at Germany now.

"In the end, you only needed to realise it _yourself_" a small smile on his transparent lips. "Both of you, actually…"

For a moment, Germany and Holy Roman Empire stood face to face –almost identical, almost the same, yet so different– serious, silent. Holy Roman Empire smiled, proudly, at the younger Nation.

"Protect my love" he murmured, and for Germany, that '_my'_ was also a '_your'_ and ultimately echoed into '_our'_, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, resonating strongly through Holy Roman Empire's heart as well, the two sounds turning into a single one, and HRE was stepping forwards, eyes open wide and– "never let him go. Me and you, we've waited far too long already".

And Germany had barely enough time to just finally _get it_, that Heinrich vanished in a thousand million shining fragments, dissipating in thin air as he stepped through Germany's body, fragments attaching themselves to his skin, dissolving into it.

And every fragment shimmered with a small memory, a feeling that swept through his mind, gently, not to shock or hurt but to complete, of a time when Germany was striving to be bigger, of a time when Germany had yet to become Germany, when he wasn't Germany at all, but someone else, of a time when he was small and crushing on a young, cute little maid–

_One and the same, yet different_

Running through big corridors, looking up at giant paintings hanging on high walls…

Of flowers and plates of pasta left in front of a door, running away with cheeks aflame–

Of swords clashing together, and fluttering cloaks in the cold wind on a battlefield, rushing against the enemy, without fear…

The smell of crayons and oil paintings, of afternoons spent drawing together,

The melodies echoing from Austria's room, to whom Italy would sing, with him spying from behind a wall…

Everything nudged at him, flowing like an endless river, fitting every corner, every fold and _finally_ the memories of a past he didn't have fell into place, humming and content –soothing.

Germany closed his eyes, complete for the first time in over two hundred years, and let tears fall down his cheeks, unable to stop them. Memories that he'd wished for, memories he didn't even know he was missing, an emptied void now filled, that part of his past he couldn't remember having…

The same heart –Heinrich and Ludwig's– for one single love the two of them had shared… because Holy Roman Empire had been right in his carefully chosen words. Germany had always loved Italy, ever since the '900, and he'd never stopped loving him. Not even when part of him had been buried deep within himself, waiting to be freed.

_One and the same._ Buried deep inside him, another person, another life, but a life that in the end was him all the same.

But of course, Italy had to first learn to love Germany. Clinging at the ghost of his love wouldn't have allowed him to love Germany for what he was –because even with memories from before, Germany was still… Germany.

And Holy Roman Empire was gone. He'd been gone for many, many years.

Germany, a Nation that had grown on his own, standing up for himself, fighting his own battles without anything to back him up aside from his own strength…

"L–Ludwig?"

Opening his eyes, Germany stared at the trembling Italian still sitting on the bed, as if seeing him for the first time after a long while; he wasn't even aware that his legs were bringing him closer until he was at the Italian Nation's side, leaning down to hold him in his arms with all of his strength.

Not wanting to let go.

"So it was you… it really was you…" Italy was crying again, but this time Germany could understand. "It feels so…"

_Wrong_ –he'd spent decades convincing himself that Germany was not Holy Roman Empire, only to fall for both, and in the end, choosing one, they–

"I love you, Feliciano" he murmured. "I love you. I've always loved you".

And the rush of raw emotions he felt were all of his own –a bittersweet feeling of having missed Italy, even though he'd seen him every day for centuries, the need to hold him in his arms, and never, _ever_ let him go again.

At the same time, Germany felt the raw desire to kiss Italy –because he had yet to taste him, to feel his warmth and his love.

Germany leaned forwards and finally –_finally_– joined lips with Italy in a wet, desperate kiss, not their first kiss, but a first kiss all the same.

Sweet yet salty for their shared tears, frantic, needy and delicious, Germany tasted and licked at Italy's lips, unable to stop, kissing and nibbling and holding the other Nation's body so close to his own that they were not two anymore, but a single being.

"Ludwig… Ludwig…" barely parting to breath, they clutched at each other, Italy's soft whispers driving Germany's rational brain crazy, covering the lither body with his own, hands slipping to press feathery touches on his soft, smooth skin… "_ti amo… ti amo… ti amo, io_–"

All words faded into silence as Germany kissed Italy again. They would have all the time in the world to talk later… but now, all he wanted was to hold his Italy close.

A single shimmering sparkle of light gently twirled out of the room and into the night, spinning in the cold air, sailing higher and higher, above the roofs and the treetops, twinkling at the figures of Hungary, Prussia and Austria moving to Italy's house, then vanished in the darkness, just when a gust of wind finally pushed the heavy, dark clouds away, revealing a star–filled sky.

No more ghosts. No more tears. The wishes had been fulfilled.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** that was it. If you find it in yourself, please drop a review, thank you very much :) any kind of feedback will be loved, I swear ^^

_Grazie (Italian)_ – Thank you

Meine Italien (German) – my Italy

_Ti amo_ _(Italian)_ – I love you


End file.
